Metanoia

-01-

-THE CURATOR-

Observe the realm, but be not of it. These words I've endured for countless centuries as I watch humanity from my Repository. For centuries, I have walked this world as an immortal observer of humanity's endless cycle of life and death.

Monsters, betrayal, and greed have been the relentless harbingers of demise, and I have watched it all unfold from the shadows, an indifferent spectator. At first, their struggles and suffering were mere fleeting moments, inconsequential blips in the tapestry of time.

But with the passing centuries, an insatiable urge to intervene began to gnaw at me. I yearned to extend my hand, to shield the innocent from evil, to disrupt the cruel whims of fate.

Lately, the horrors I've witnessed have grown more grotesque and more heart-wrenching. Still, I remained a silent sentinel, bound by an unspoken oath never to interfere.

This time, however, I am resolute in breaking those age-old rules. The latest tragedy I've observed is too much to bear, and I can no longer stand idly by.

Amidst the tapestry of human existence, there exists a dark and insidious force that eludes my immortal senses, a malevolence beyond my grasp even as I watch from afar. This unseen terror prowls in the shadowed crevices of humanity's collective soul, a sinister specter that hungers insatiably.

It leaves its victims as withered husks, drained of life's precious elixir: blood. But its method of predation is subtle, its presence concealed from mortal and immortal alike.

It lurks in the depths of the night when even the bravest souls are trapped in the web of sleep. A whisper of dread, a shiver of impending doom, and then it strikes unseen and unfelt.

Its victims awaken to a world of creeping numbness as if their vitality had been siphoned away. Their veins run dry, their hearts falter, and their bodies wither into frail remnants of their former selves. I, the immortal watcher, cannot detect this elusive maleficence, for it operates beyond the scope of my timeless perception.

In this silent war, where innocence is devoured in the dark, I am left to witness the aftermath, to observe the sorrowful remnants of lives once brimming with vitality, now reduced to mere husks by a force that defies even my immortal gaze.

As I ponder my course of action, I realize there's someone who can help me navigate this treacherous path: Logan Kade. I've felt whispers of her presence as I see her fight back against the horrors that plague her city. There are others like her: the survivors of a few of the worst stories I've had to witness. They will have the strength to overcome this threat.

She's the key to unraveling this mystery and, perhaps, changing the fate of those who suffer. It's time to reach out to her, to confide in a mortal ally who may hold the power to tip the scales in favor of the innocent.

-MIKE-

"You kept your apartment clean," I comment. "I'm shocked."

"Haha," Logan mutters dryly as she puts her keys down. "It's not that bad."

"I know," I amend, mostly to get the mock pout off her face.

Despite her ability, Logan's apartment was usually cluttered with case files, books, and notes. The place is still full of boxes from the move. At most, she's unpacked her office, her gaming set up, her bed, and her bathroom. She still lives and eats out of boxes.